Prom
by blueowls
Summary: Quinn & Rachel friendship, side Brittana. //As Brittany flips through the dresses on the rack, her back to them, Quinn grabs Santana’s wrist and pulls her away from a black dress that’s caught her eye.//


**Author Note: **For a gleeks friendship request.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

**Prom**

As Brittany flips through the dresses on the rack, her back to them, Quinn grabs Santana's wrist and pulls her away from a black dress that's caught her eye. Ignoring Santana's protests, Quinn drags her far away from Brittany, shoving her behind a rack of hats before following her and pressing close. Santana immediately holds up her hands, assuming the worst and trying to ward her off, but Quinn rolls her eyes, knocking Santana's hands aside before speaking.

"Don't flatter yourself, Lopez," she says, a hand on her hip as she looks over her shoulder. Brittany hasn't noticed they've disappeared, so she turns back to Santana, eyes narrowed. "I just wanted to know how you asked Brittany to prom, and I can't ask if you won't move more than two feet away from her."

Santana looks at her warily, like she's still expecting her to swoop in and assault her, but then to Quinn's horror, Santana sees through her ruse quickly, a malicious smile spreading across her face.

"Who are you—"

"None of your business," Quinn hisses before Santana can get another word out. Santana raises an eyebrow, still smirking, but lets her finish. "Just tell me how you did it."

"You're the one who's had two boyfriends," Santana says with a careless shrug. "Don't you know all this romantic crap by now?"

Quinn lets out an involuntary laugh, but it's sharp and short. "Finn, romantic? Please. And don't get me started on Puck, who was _never_ more than a one-time thing. Unlike _you_."

Santana bristles at the insult, and she surges forward, pushing her aside bodily. Quinn watches her go, and after calming down and deciding she'll try to ask Santana again later, follows her. She finds Brittany and Santana huddled over a bright yellow dress with a million frills, and she squeezes herself in next to Brittany.

"You're going to look like the sun," Quinn says evenly. Brittany actually seems to perk up at this, and Santana snorts.

"That's what she was going for. That, or a sunflower."

Quinn sniffs icily, pointing to the slinky black dress Santana's got draped over her arm. "Well, then you can't get black. You'll look like a bee together."

"Suck it, Fabray," Santana says casually, although she does hold up the dress, a worried look flitting across her face.

"Go with white."

"Whatever."

"Do it, Lopez."

Before it can escalate any further, Brittany tilts her head to the side, leaning against Santana and hugging her dress to herself. "White looks good on you, S. Or something creamy."

Quinn smirks, watching Santana's internal struggle over whether to go with her advice or not. Eventually, Santana lets out a defeated sigh, turning to a random rack and putting the black dress back among pink ball gowns.

"Fine. I'll go with _cream_."

---

Santana's crankier than usual, so Quinn never really gets a chance to ask her how she asked Brittany to prom. And she can't ask Brittany, either, because she'd invariably let it slip to Santana that she asked, and Quinn's not up for that sort of drama right now. So Quinn does what she does best—take charge.

She corners Rachel in the hallway before her math class, her arms on either side of Rachel's head as she places her hands against the lockers, pinning her to the spot. Rachel winces as Quinn speaks, which actually kind of hurts. She's not out to destroy Rachel anymore, but years of torture are apparently hard to forget. It's part of the reason she's doing this.

"We're going to prom," Quinn says, and by the tone of her voice, it's not a question. It wouldn't even be, regardless, because after Finn and Jesse, Rachel had put aside dating for a while.

"Does that mean—" Rachel begins quietly, and then Quinn's eyes widen in horror at the realization of what she's going to ask.

"Oh, sweet Jesus. As _friends_, Berry."

"Okay," Rachel says meekly, and for some reason, Quinn feels a stab of guilt overpower her.

"I'll pick you up at seven," she says more kindly, and she carefully withdraws her hands, crossing her arms in front of her. "Santana and Brittany are coming with us."

Rachel gives her a weak smile, nodding softly. "Are they going as a couple?"

"I think so."

"That's going to be... interesting," Rachel finally says politely.

"They better. Secrets mess with relationships," Quinn says softly, looking away. She clears her throat authoritatively before looking Rachel up and down and turning, heading for her math class.

"Seven. Don't forget.

"I won't. Bye, Quinn.

"Bye, Rachel."

---

Rachel fiddles with the strap of her clutch purse, sneaking another look at the tv's digital clock in the living room. She's grateful her fathers went out for their weekly date even though they pressured her to let them stay and see her off, because it's already seven thirty-four and Quinn's not here. Rachel swallows, trying to ward off impending tears because she doesn't want her mascara to run. If this is some sort of joke, than it's more horrible than a million slushie facials _and_ an insult from Ms. Sylvester. The only good thing she can see about it is that at least she wasn't stood up publicly.

Her clutch starts to buzz mutedly, so she reaches undoes the latch and reaches inside, trying not to get her hopes up. But there it is, Quinn's number lit up on the tiny screen, and Rachel allows herself a small smile as she gets up on wobbly heels and heads toward the door.

The text says _come outside_ and nothing else, so Rachel lets herself out of the house, locking the door and dropping the keys in her clutch before starting down the walkway. Santana's car is waiting at the bottom of the slope of the Berry driveway, and as Rachel approaches, the front window rolls down smoothly. Peeking inside, Rachel sees Quinn in the driver's seat, and there's the snap of the door unlocking as Quinn, in a strapless white gown, apologizes for their lateness.

Rachel lets herself in, and it's immediately apparent why Quinn wanted her up front and not in back, where Rachel assumed she and Quinn would sit considering it's Santana's car. As Rachel slides into her seat, making sure the long trailing end of her green gown doesn't get caught in the door, there's loud giggles from behind her. She's tempted to turn around and look but doesn't want to push her luck. These are fairly new friends, so instead she just turns her head a fraction and peers into the back out of the corner of her eye. What she sees is a mess of moving creamy white and sunshine yellow—Santana and Brittany, almost laying on top of each other.

"Are they drunk?" Rachel asks, turning around abruptly when she makes out a hand on a bared thigh and putting her seatbelt on as Quinn starts driving.

"No, just incredibly horny," Quinn deadpans. There's an outraged, "Hey!" and, "We're just making out, Quinn, for God's sake," from the back before Quinn continues, smirking.

"Possibly. Santana is for sure."

"You don't know?" Rachel asks incredulously, her hands unconsciously gripping at the seat as Quinn runs a suspiciously yellow light.

"I just picked them up like this. The plan was that Santana would drive, but I decided to take over," Quinn explains. "There's no way I'd hang out with them before to monitor what they drink or not. They probably had sex just helping each other get their dresses on."

Suddenly, Santana's out of her seat and hanging over the center console between them despite Brittany's loud complaints, hands gripping the shoulder of the driver and passenger seats.

"You suck," she says, directing her insult at Quinn, and Rachel leans to the side as far away from Santana as she can get until Santana sees her and narrows her eyes. "I'm not drunk. You just need to lighten up, Fabray."

Quinn makes a face and turns to look at Santana before Rachel clears her throat quickly, and her focus snaps back to the road, if only to keep Rachel from chastising her driving.

"Whatever," Quinn says dismissively, and Santana smirks triumphantly as Brittany pulls her back down onto the seat by the back of her dress. They pass the rest of the ride in subdued silence except for some soft whispering between Brittany and Santana and light chitchat between Quinn and Rachel. It's one of the most interesting and awkward car rides Rachel's ever experienced, but surrounded by the girls who are now her friends—even if two of them are undeniably hard to love sometimes—she wouldn't trade it for the world.

---

Quinn finds a spot in the packed McKinley parking lot, and Rachel breathes a sigh of relief as she lets herself out. Beside her, she can see Brittany scrambling out of her side of the car, standing up and tugging her dress down where it's ridden up. Brittany looks up suddenly and sees her watching, and Rachel looks away quickly, blushing and missing Brittany's teasing smile.

"Ready?" Quinn asks, from the other side of the car, and Rachel nods. She and Quinn fall in step as they head toward the gym where the prom is being hosted, and one quick glance over her shoulder lets Rachel know that Santana and Brittany are right behind them, hands clasped. As soon as they make it inside, though, the couple slides past them and heads for the dance floor. Rachel tries not to look at the dance floor after that, because part of the conversation in the car on the way over was Brittany's list of the pros and cons of freaking over grinding.

The full awkwardness of the going-as-friends-and-not-dates situation finally hits her as Quinn drifts toward a quieter spot of the gym, looking over her shoulder expectantly until Rachel follows. They both settle with their backs to the wall, Quinn standing without touching the wall and Rachel leaning heaving against it because her feet are already killing her. A good four whole songs play without a word between them before Rachel speaks.

"Why did you invite me?"

Quinn looks at her sideways, but her expression is one that Rachel can't make out. There's a pause before Quinn finally answers her.

"I feel terrible about how I treated you."

"So it was a pity invitation?" Rachel asks, slipping out of her shoes and sighing as she feels herself sink three inches. Quinn looks down at her now, her brow furrowed.

"No. More like a peace offering, I guess," she says. "But if you ever repeat this to anyone else—"

"I know, I know," Rachel interrupts. It hurts that Quinn still needs to threaten her, as if she didn't know that Rachel wouldn't tell anyone the reason behind tonight.

Quinn sighs heavily before she pushes herself away from the wall, moving to stand in front of Rachel and hold out a hand. "Dance with me?"

Rachel looks at Quinn and then at the dance floor. It sounds like a sincere offer, and Quinn's already stated—repeatedly—that they're just going as friends, so she takes Quinn's hand and hopes no one steals her shoes as Quinn leads her to the edge of the crowd. It's not a slow dance, but Quinn's hand is on her waist and the other is holding Rachel's hand before she has a chance to protest, and Rachel finds herself pressing against Quinn as bodies jostle them.

"No one's going to notice," Quinn says from above her, and Rachel looks up. Quinn flushes, probably at the proximity, and that boosts Rachel's confidence enough to put a hand on Quinn's very bare shoulder. It elicits a shiver from Quinn, although Rachel realizes it's nothing more than her hands being cold. "Or care. Brittany and Santana are stealing all the gay spotlight."

"The only thing that matters is what you think," Rachel says, feeling like Mr. Schuester. "And since we're going as friends, it's fine. Right?"

"Right," Quinn repeats, nodding. "Now shut it, Berry. We can't dance if you keep talking."

Rachel smiles ruefully—gracefully refusing to point out that Quinn's the one doing most of the talking—before she bows her head and closes her eyes, feeling Quinn's chin rest easily on top of her head as they sway together.

---

After Quinn's dropped her off and she gets a good-bye peck on the cheek from a very excited Brittany, Rachel sneaks up into her room minus a pair of new heels. The light isn't on in her fathers' room, so she slips quietly into her room and starts to get ready for bed. Once her make-up is removed, her dress is hung back in the closet in the protective plastic sheet, and she's wrangled herself into some pajamas, she curls up in her bed under the covers, opening her phone and finding one text from Quinn. She can only hope with a sigh that Quinn either sent it at a red light or is already safely at Santana's house.

_Just friends?_

Rachel enters a response, but her thumb brushes over and off the send button several times before she sends it, biting her lip.

_Just friends._

Rachel's about the let the phone slide out of her grip and onto the floor, but she opens it against an instinct that tells her that this is potentially a very bad idea and sends a quick second text before turning her phone off and reaching out from under the covers to lay it on her bedside table, trying to suppress a smile.

_For now._


End file.
